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<title>Cause in my sorry way I love you by orphan_account</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25274959">Cause in my sorry way I love you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Yes, I am blind [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Smiths</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Andy cares, Andy is the rebound, Friends With Benefits, Heartbreak, Kissing, M/M, mentions of drug abuse, morrissey loves johnny</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:34:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,232</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25274959</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>I’m the one who stopped you.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Johnny Marr/Morrissey, Morrissey/Andy Rourke</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Yes, I am blind [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1837546</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Cause in my sorry way I love you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I love Andy, why’d I do this to him? *cries*</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Thump, thump, thump… a loud, high pitched moan, a muffled curse, the thin, barely there wall shaking from the impact of the headboard hitting it.  </em>
</p><p>Andy groaned miserably and covered his head with his pillow. This was, by far, the loudest they’d ever been, and he was certainly not high enough to drown out the sound of his best friend fucking their lead singer. </p><p>Of course, it wasn’t anything new to Andy, he knew very well what Angie not coming along to a gig with them meant. However, he’d never been particularly bothered by their <em>activities... </em>until now. </p><p>A few weeks prior, Andy had held a sobbing mess of Morrissey in his arms, rocked him to sleep like you would a newborn baby. Why? Well, because Johnny fucking Marr liked to have his cake and eat it too. But now things were different between them. </p><p>Johnny permanently looked as though he was going to murder Andy, and Morrissey was even worse. He had taken to actually <em> talking </em> to Andy, confiding in him after shows when Johnny hadn’t looked at him twice. It wasn’t just talking either, Andy was sure that Morrissey was made for the sole purpose of fitting into his lap. He would curl against him with ease late at night in the dark and dingy hotel room, and Andy couldn’t stop his hands from wandering down his back, coming to rest just above his ass. Morrissey then would sigh appreciatively and nuzzle into the crook of Andy’s neck, soon falling asleep. </p><p>That was their routine now, and Andy found himself in need of more drugs. He wondered to himself if Morrissey even registered that the blonde was high every time he’d come to visit, or if he really was a ‘needy selfish prick’, as Johnny sometimes described him. None of that mattered now, Johnny was busy giving it to him, and Andy was out of drugs and shamefully a bit hard from hearing Morrissey’s whines. </p><p>Somehow he’d fallen asleep last night. It wasn’t the ray of sunshine coming through the hotel curtains or the alarm he’d meant to set the night before that woke him up, but a rushed knocking at his room door and a very annoyed voice belonging to Morrissey calling his name. Andy scrambled out of bed and quickly stepped into his wrinkled jeans from the night before. There was no time to check his appearance but he figured Morrissey would be displeased. And he was correct. Morrissey stood in the doorway, face all scrunched up and arms crossed at his chest. </p><p>“We’re leaving,” he said, rather annoyed and peeked his head around Andy’s shoulder to inspect the state of his room. It was a mess, of course. </p><p>Andy felt as though he’d just been slapped in the face, hard. His green eyes fell upon the other’s neck, a trail of love bites adorning the pale skin. Andy wasn’t jealous, how could he be? He had no claim to Morrissey and yet he felt like Moz had purposely done nothing to hide the remnants of he and Johnny’s lovemaking. </p><p>“I’ll be out in a minute, sorry I overslept.” Came his defeated reply. He’d wanted to tell Mozzer to fuck off but he didn’t have the strength to do it. He felt like a complete idiot. </p><p>“Well, hurry. Johnny and I want to catch breakfast, but I suppose we’ll have to settle for brunch.” Oh, he was being a right snob. Andy wanted to ring his neck. But instead he nodded and closed the door and frantically began packing his things.</p><p> </p><p>It had been nearly a month and a few gigs between them before Moz visited his hotel room again. He’d opened the door to a red faced, puffy eyed Morrissey, who had flung himself at the other man desperately. Andy, who was very high, just let it happen and the two of them backed inside his room and tumbled back onto the bed. </p><p>There was silence. Morrissey sat in his lap, slender arms wrapped around his neck gently, and Andy's hands trembled as he brought them down to rest on Mozzer’s back like he had so many times before. He felt content in the moment. Moz leaned flush against him and breathed hotly against his ear. Andy felt blood rush straight to his cock. Morrissey pulled back, questioning him a bit, his eyes still damp with tears. Without warning he pressed their lips together in a soft kiss before Andy could reject him. </p><p>Morrissey’s lips moved against his, devouring him in a kiss that was clearly meant for another. But Andy closed his eyes and allowed himself to feel the warm and slightly wet lips against his own. How long had it been since someone he actually liked kissed him? God, Morrissey could kiss a bloke. His tongue, which Andy had always secretly admired - especially when he’d do that thing in interviews, licking his lips so obscenely - grazed along Andy’s bottom lip, urging the blonde to open up to him. He obliged and swallowed his tongue, battling for dominance. He lost though when Morrissey ground his hips down hard against him, breaking the kiss and throwing his head back, a throaty moan escaping him. Andy cursed and began trailing sloppy, wet kisses down Morrissey’s neck. </p><p>The little voice inside of his head was screaming at him to stop. Morrissey was obviously using him in hopes of making Johnny jealous. And it would work, Andy could fuck him, be careless with him and leave him all marked up, returning him to his guitarist utterly wrecked. But Morrissey was meant to be cherished, he was so delicate and soft, like a woman, and Andy <em> cared </em> too damn much about him to use him like that. </p><p>Just then Morrissey had run his fingers through Andy’s hair, scratching his scalp and the blonde was at great debate with himself for a half a second. But in the end he pulled away, taking in just how debauched his friend looked. Lips swollen, cheeks flushed, angry marks all along his neck, Johnny would see. </p><p>Morrissey was about to complain, but Andy silenced him with a quick, tender kiss to his lips. “Moz… we can’t...” he whispered, regret evident in his voice, his hands still clung to the singer’s hips. Morrissey pouted, actually pouted, and crossed his arms. </p><p>“Why not?” He whined. </p><p>“You love Johnny, that’s why,” <em> and I love you </em> , he wanted to add but it would be premature. Though he surely felt <em> something </em>for the singer. </p><p>“And what’s so wrong with loving two people? Johnny loves me and his precious Angie.” Morrissey argued like a petulant child. Andy shook his head. </p><p>“Do you love me, Moz? Like you love him?” <em> Fuck, his voice literally shook. How pathetic. </em></p><p>“No.”</p><p>He was still on a high from their kiss, and the drugs, but his heart sank when he heard the truth. He waited a moment, sighed, then squeezed Moz’s sides gently. </p><p>“Why don’t we just sleep, ok? I’ll hold you.” He feared Moz would throw a tantrum for not getting his way, but he simply agreed and settled down beside him, curling into his side like he belonged there. Andy clung to him, memorized the smell of him, how soft his skin was, for he knew his friend would be long gone and in the arms of another by the time he woke up. </p><p>
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